After the Fact
by ShadesofImagination
Summary: In the end, it's what he didn't know that made all the difference.


**This comes off an idea that came from a moment of joking. Two minutes later our brains started working and here we are now. Just enjoy it for what it is. **

**Special thanks to The Lady With The Whip who keeps me writing like a real human and gives me impromptu grammar lessons while I make my dinner.**

…

**After the Fact**

…

Genesis sighed and bent over, crushing the butt of his cigarette under his boot. Around him the early morning was still, light just beginning to filter over the mountains. He stood, stretching his arms high over his head, bending from side to side.

Rocket Town was peaceful, something he'd never really imagined being a part of, and he loved it: the lazy mornings, the routine life, having his own place to come home to without worrying about much of anything.

Two years ago, he wouldn't have thought he'd find himself in such a place, still hiding in the dark underground like a coward. All of that had changed when a familiar face had stumbled across him.

Cloud had been... unexpected, to say the least. It had taken him a while to make the connection between the composed, capable man and the young blond he'd seen Zack carrying around, mako-poisoned and too far gone to raise his own head. It was that curiosity, though, that had tugged at his thoughts and eventually pulled him back out into the world.

It was a very different place and for a moment he'd been completely lost, wandering around the remains of the city, taking in the destruction.

At the time, he would have said it was by chance or a stroke of good luck that he'd stumbled across the church, the glinting of metal off the side of a motorcycle catching his attention. However, in recent months, he wasn't so sure. Finding Cloud had been the best thing that could have happened to him.

It had taken a while for the blond to fully open up about himself, and when he did Genesis was torn between wanting to know more and wishing he'd never heard anything. All the blame he'd shouldered had swelled and come crashing down around him. 'What ifs' had come spilling out and the ache in his chest became a permanent fixture, one that he couldn't rationalize or push aside. He still carried it... but it was dulled now, acceptance and time slowly healing the wounds until they were just scars. He wasn't stupid and knew that it would always be there, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

Still, at that time, Cloud had surprised him and been there, taking all the confessions in stride and listening whenever he needed an ear. When he was tired of sleeping on the dusty wooden floor, a rolled up sleeping mat for a pillow, Cloud had offered to take him around the world on the condition that he find some new clothes. He'd agreed and they ended up starting in Midgar, exploring the remains of the ShinRa compound and all the underground labs that had yet to be opened after Meteor.

It was there that they'd come across some information that had changed their plans and left them buried in files and lab notes for the next several months.

All the data surrounding any and all experiments performed with Jenova cells had been stored in underground compartments locked in secure storage bunkers that were designed to withstand just about anything. Meteor, fortunately, hadn't been one of them and the simple power failure combined with the force of two SOLDIERs made tearing down the door easy. Once in, they'd pored over file after file, picking out anything relevant they could find. A box had sat in the center of the room, opened once and left after that. It was filled with live experimentation footage, most labeled with 'Project S,' and neither of them could watch it—or wanted to. That there were so many discs said enough, their titles spelling out even more. Knowing they were there... that those things had happened and he'd never known about it left Genesis feeling sick, a bitter taste lingering in his mouth.

It had taken less than a day for them to finally break, the box of footage sitting in the room like a siren, curiosity and a need to know pulling at them both. They'd found a working computer, wired it up, and with shaking hands Genesis had inserted the first disc.

A child had showed up on the screen, very obviously Sephiroth, hair silver and eyes glowing bright even at that age. Genesis guessed he was probably three, maybe four at the most.

The experiments had started off plain enough: having him run for short distances, lift things, and perform other basic tasks, but they steadily grew worse. His stomach was roiling after a matter of minutes but he forced himself to sit still, eyes glued on the screen as Sephiroth disappeared under the water of a tank, the lid sealing behind him. A choked sound came from next to him and he heard a slight movement. He didn't look. He didn't move when a hand gripped his own, he just squeezed back as the pair watched a childlike face appear at the glass wall of the tank, thrashing in the water, bubbles filtering up to the surface. They left him there until he'd stopped moving and sunk to the bottom. Once the tank had drained, Genesis had expected someone to come running. Instead, scientists milled around the tank, clipboards in hand, their white coats a bright contrast to the cold metal of the room and waited until Sephiroth finally started coughing up water.

They watched hours and hours of experimentation, everything from Sephiroth's actual birth to Hojo's routine dissection of him, the last dated three days before the mission to Nibelheim.

He wasn't ashamed to admit that the second the last disc had stopped and silence had settled over them, his stomach heaved and he stumbled out the door, emptying everything he could on to the cold floor. Cloud had been right behind him.

Even now just the thought made his mouth water, sickly sweet and uncontrollable. He'd _wanted _that life. He'd _wanted_ the fame, the glory, everything that he'd thought made up Sephiroth's _perfect _life. He'd been stupid, naïve, a child that was jealous of the neighbor's new bicycle. He hadn't known anything and had, for quite some time, called himself Sephiroth's friend. Everything he'd done, all of the rash decisions justified through a twisted sense of madness and disdain for a man he'd wanted to be, had ultimately pushed him into the insanity that had destroyed him. He couldn't help but wonder how things would have been had he known, had he been happy with the friendships, the life, he once had.

It was ironic, really. The truth about everything had been under their feet the whole time and they'd each found answers they'd both wanted and needed. Cloud had discovered what exactly had happened in Nibelheim: what experiments had been performed on him and Zack, his projected lifespan, and any theorized medical difficulties he might encounter in different situations. The list of enhancements that had been slated for him, had he reacted well to the mako, were gruesome, and Genesis had to applaud him... if it had been him, he wasn't sure he'd have wanted to read all of that. He was shocked when Cloud finished, tossed down the file and smiled for the first time since he'd met him, face wet. When he asked about it, the man had just shrugged, simply telling him that knowing made things that much easier once he'd finally accepted that what had happened couldn't be undone.

He'd nodded and went back to digging, hoping to uncover something he hadn't known in his insanity... something that would have proven his initial beliefs false or even partially incorrect. He needed validation, proof, that he wasn't a monster, that he was just as human as anyone else, even after all this time. A single file turned out to be what he was looking for. He'd found it late in the evening; Cloud had fallen asleep, slumped over on boxes filled with creature notes waiting for him to finish for the day, and he'd almost passed it up.

Amidst the pages of clone observations, degradation data, and SOLDIER test information there'd been a sheet of paper, plain and lined, but covered in familiar print and yellowed with age. It was folded up haphazardly, like a last minute decision had been the only thing to keep it from a fire. On the piece of paper had been a long list of names, all but one scratched off: V. Valentine. At the bottom, whoever had written it—Hollander, he assumed—had described the process in short, stating that a donation was made in late August, the cells implanted in early September, and the projected birth date of Project G's first specimen was early April. Further digging supported the claims of the sheet and when Cloud woke, Genesis had been pulling apart files, looking for anything that might tell him more about the man. When he'd asked about it, Genesis tossed the paper at him. A noise of surprise had come, shocked and loud in the quiet of the room. Evidently the man was alive and 'V' stood for Vincent, a friend of Cloud's that he spoke to regularly.

Needless to say, they'd packed their things, making sure to close up the room carefully, then left for Rocket Town that night. According to Cloud, 'Where Cid went, Vincent would follow,' and Cid was currently in Rocket Town.

On the way, he began to have doubts that Cloud waved aside easily, telling him that there were some things he needed to know and that Vincent, though quiet and with his own horrible past, was a good man.

In short, the meeting had been interesting. His first impression of Vincent had been shock, his second... more shock.

The news that he had a son, currently standing before him, had gone over with silence, a slight widening of the eyes the only indication the man had even heard them. The explanation had then followed and Genesis explained where he'd been the last few years, admittedly with a very obvious lack of detail.

Vincent had nodded, stood, and held out his hand, apologizing for his part in the Project. He didn't make excuses—he didn't say much of anything, really—but later that evening Cid had come out into the back where Genesis had been busily going through his last pack of smokes and clapped him on the shoulder. The man told him that he didn't give a shit where he came from, that Vincent wasn't the best at expressing himself, but he was always welcome there and they hoped he'd stay a little while so the two could get to know him.

Refusing the offer had been the furthest thing from his mind.

Cloud had left the next morning, promising to return once he cleaned up the information under the compound.

The following weeks had been surprisingly comfortable. Cid and Vincent were an odd pair but they lived a simple life, and once he got used to waking to the sound of cursing and metal crashing against metal, he'd settled in nicely. The sudden realization that the two of them were in a relationship had been a little shocking but a relief as well. Childish as it was, he'd been worried that the man who now held the title of his biological father would disapprove of some aspects of his life. He didn't, and the conversation that followed had been both embarrassing and relieving at once.

For the first time, he found himself out in the open, smiling, laughing, and doing exactly what he wanted to do when he wanted to do it. There were no missions, there were no requirements, there were no experiments. There was just one rule: Cid, no matter how hungry he was, no matter how late it was or who was asleep, did not make dinner. As long as he was okay with being woken at all hours of the night, life would be good.

And it was.

With Vincent and Cid's help he got settled. He learned things he had never pictured himself being interested in and more often than not found himself elbow-deep in grease, right alongside Cid while Vincent perched on the table folding laundry or reading a magazine. They helped him build a life, a house—_his _house—and start a business that he could support himself off of, and they always had a place at their table for him. It was... domestic. It was peaceful.

He hadn't realized how much he'd wanted that, how much better this simplistic way of life was. He gave up the leather he'd always been so fond of, at least in the scope of working life, replacing tight pants for comfortable jeans, the knit sweater for cotton shirts that always ended up stained.

Of all the new things he'd found, there was just one missing.

He was lonely. He missed his friends—one in particular.

Cloud was never completely absent in his life. He came and he went and he randomly showed up at the door, wearing a shy smile and packing a large box of dumbapples. Some days he gave warning, calling ahead to make sure Genesis was going to be home, and other times he just stole the key from under the front mat and waltzed in like he owned the place.

The sporadic visits lasted a good year and a half until one day... he stayed.

Behind him, soft footfalls called him back from his thoughts and Genesis smiled behind the rim of his mug, taking a slow drink. "You're up early today."

A hand slipped into his own and a familiar weight pressed against his side. "I heard you get up... the bed got cold, I couldn't sleep anymore."

He set the mug down and turned, wrapping his arms around the man, pulling him close. Cloud's hair was mussed, his skin warm with sleep, and Genesis could smell the sweetness of his skin. These were the moments when he couldn't imagine his life being any different. He couldn't even begin to dream that all those things he'd wanted years before could ever compare to the peace he'd finally found. The guilt was still there, the sadness always lingering, but this... Cloud... he understood, and together they were moving forward.

…

**End. Thanks for reading.~**


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